Short and pale and cute and chubbly (the girl from Pennsylvania goes walking)

I've been chatting with a new friend recently who is new to the world of being little and has a gajillion questions! And, silly little thing that she is, she's asking them of me! Has she not read my stuff? Not looked at any of my posts? Does she not know what havoc she invites by giving me license to make words all over her? Pity the poor little...she knows not what's she's gotten herself into...

(Background for the friendship, by the by, goes thusly:

* I read a very sweet little thing she's written, a G-rated bit of honey that *really* makes me smile.

* I write her a safe message about how much I enjoyed her writing, and how she should keep up the good work.

* She answers back and asks a few questions about being little, as she is new to this part of the scene.

* I begin writing and answering her questions with as many words as I can find. Anyone who knows me, or has ever asked me a simple question knows what comes next.

See how easy it is to make a friend, folks? Or literarily stalk a stranger?)

Odd, I seem to have gotten off track there for a moment. Not like me at all, right?

So. To return.

This newly-blinded-from-over-reading young lady asked me a question that made me think about an old, dear friend. She was the first girl-type person that I ever talked to in an intimate way about my ageplay proclivities, the first I ever met in real life, the first to ever physically tend to me as a little feller and the first girl I ever bABied in return.

And at the end, I treated her pretty dang shabbily.

We met in some Yahoo! group or other (remember those?) and hit it off pretty easily. We started doing roleplay in that group, moved on to our own, then graduated like big kids to the earliest version of Yahoo! IM. (remember that?). We talked there and on the phone for months. We talked about baby stuff, growdup stuff and everything in between. The "L" word was even said! (And meant!)

I visited her once, in Pennsylvania where we spent two lovely diapered days together. The first day, we just did things together with our diapers under our growdup clothes; crinkly, blushy little secrets beneath our jeans. The second day, we switched on and off being bigs for the other's little. (To my recollection, the terms big and little we're not used in the same way they are today, but that's what we were doing, established nomenclature or no.) She visited me, later that year, and that's when...well, I'm not sure what happened.

No! None of that Swiss-cheese-head excuse this time! You know what you did and why, as much as I do. Now spill...

Fine, Marky's brain...I don't have the energy to fight you today...

Her visit was not as pleasant. I really don't know why, but her visit coincided with a giant shame spot on the map of my life. That caused me to be kinda terse with her, and I'm afraid I wasn't a very good friend to her. We went through the motions, sure. Did our fun stuff, talked a little and so on. But I neglected to acknowledge her little side almost completely, even after she made clear her desire for just that. After she left, maybe a week, maybe sooner, I ended our relationship.

I'm not sure what reason I gave her, but it wasn't the truth. The truth was that I was deeply ashamed of what I was doing and what that said about who I was. And being friends with her was keeping me rooted to that shame somehow, I thought. So I broke up with her over the phone. And I've never heard from her again.

It's only my fault in that it was my shame, but the fact is that one of the first friends, playmates and yes, lovers, I ever had in the lifestyle, I threw away in a horrible manner and I couldn't be poorer for having done so. It weighs on my tender heart sometimes, when I think about hurting that poor girl so. I wish I could find her and tell her just how great a person she is, how undeserving of my bad behavior she was and how sorry I am for what I did.

Meghan? My precious lil Meggie? If you're out there, reading this (I know it's highly unlikely, y'all. But it's the onliest thing I got.), I want you to know that I couldn't be more sorry. You were a true friend and a true love to me and it turns out I was the undeserving one. I took what you freely gave me and kept it all to myself, in the end. I know I hurt you and I hope you can forgive me for that because I'm not sure if I can forgive myself. I just don't feel I deserve it.